Hunt for the Ruby Parrot
by Inudaughter Returns
Summary: A mystery/treasure hunt, more or less. When Gerald finds a medallion with a parrot on it, he and Arnold get wrapped up in quest for a long lost camp relic.
1. Chapter 1

**This one is going to be multiple parts. Here's a start, anyway.**

Today was shaping up to be one of Arnold's finest Saturdays. When he woke up, there was a brand-new unopened box of Arnold's favorite cereal waiting for him downstairs. Arnold's favorite shows were premiering new episodes. Better yet, when Arnold came back from a long, relaxing stroll with Abner on his leash, Arnold caught sight of one of his Grandpa's fishing poles poking out the closet that Grandpa had coined his, "fishing room." Arnold unhooked Abner from his leash. Then he raised his voice.

"Grandpa?" Arnold spoke out loud to the hidden person at the other end of the fishing pole. Grandpa Phil jumped a bit.

"Ohh! It's you, Arnold!" said Phil. "Great, Shortman! You can carry the bait box! Heh, heh!"

"Grandpa," Arnold admonished lightly, but he took the bait box all the same. "Weren't you supposed to fix the dryer today?"

"I was," Phil answered, slightly shifty. "I started to, Arnold, but I just can't! It's my eyes!" Arnold startled a bit and his once smiling face fell with concern.

"What's wrong with your eyes, Grandpa?" Arnold asked with especial thoughtfulness.

"Nothin'!" declared Grandpa Phil. "They just can't see myself coming to work, so I'm going fishing instead..."

"Right," Arnold said, his relief at his Grandfather's continuing good health overpowering his annoyance at his Grandpa's wordplay. "Do you mind if I come along, too?"

"Of course you can come!" said Grandpa Phil. "Like I said, who else'll hold the bait box for me? You can get on the phone and call up your friend Gerald, too!" Grandpa Phil suggested. "We'll make it a man's day out!" Phil ruffled Arnold's hair on top of his head and all seemed right with the world.

Now in Arnold's estimation, one of the finer things about Hillwood was its water access. During fine summer weather like this, they might have driven down to the beach, but for an afternoon's pleasure, the lake where Arnold and Gerald had caught Big Caesar was more than plenty. Soon Grandpa Phil, Grandpa, and Gerald were seated in a rented rowboat with three fishing poles, a well-worn bait box, and a cooler full of ice-chilled Yahoo sodas. Life indeed was good.

The fish were biting well enough, but after some time out in the sun on the open water, they steered their little ship closer to the water's edge and the big, huge hulking trees that hung out over the water, casting a little bit of shade. Arnold reached down into the cooler and pulled out two fresh Yahoo sodas. He popped open the top to one, then offered it to Gerald.

"Thirsty?" he asked his friend. But Gerald was preoccupied, recasting his fishing line out into the water.

"Nah, maybe later man!" said Gerald. "I thought I saw the shadow of a little ol' fish over there!" With a shrug, Arnold took to downing the open Yahoo soda himself while Grandpa and Gerald continued their fishing.

"Ah, man!" Gerald cursed, standing up in the boat so that Arnold teetered uneasily in his seat for a minute. But happily, the boat did not tip over. "I think I got my line snagged on a root or something!"

"Let me see!" Arnold said abandoning his soda to tug on the line sideways. With Gerald and Arnold both tugging, jiggling the fishing line side to side, it broke loose. The fishing hook came skidding through the water as they reeled it, but it was a hairsbreadth heavier than before. The sight of something oval flashed at the surface of the water, and for a moment, Arnold might have mistooken that something for a fish. But then, whatever had hooked onto Gerald's line didn't fight at all. Sure enough, when Gerald finished reeling his line in moments later, it wasn't a fish on the end of Gerald's hook. It was jewelry.

"What's this?" Gerald declared taking a thick brass circle on a strand of copper beads off the end of his fishing line. The brass circle had what looked liked a stylized macaw on it. Since the necklace looked pretty good, Gerald hung the medallion around his neck. Laying against Gerald's red sports jersey, the medallion resembled a rapper's necklace. Gerald did a few silent swings of his arms as he pretended to rap.

"Well, it's not a fish!" Gerald complained. "But it's better than the stuff ya'll get out of the vending machine! I think I'll hang onto it for a while!" Smiling happily, the three rowed back to shore.

Gerald and Arnold thought nothing especial of Gerald's find. Instead, they happily walked up the a flight of steps into Arnold's back door leading into the kitchen while Grandpa finished up parking the car in the garage. With instropective happiness, each boy was silent as they relived the pleasures of the day until they hung up their fishing poles back in Grandpa's fishing room. Then Arnold directed his attention in the direction of the kitchen.

"Do you want to eat dinner with us?" asked Arnold for he heard the kitchen sink running already. But as usual, Gerald was looking a little nervous at the prospect.

"Is your grandma cooking?"

"Yeah," Arnold admitted softly. "But it can't be all that bad! Since we've got fish, Grandma might make us some seafood stew."

"Arnold," said the Gerald with patient but tried explaination. "The last time your Grandma made seafood stew I found a real fish head in it! Now that's not the kind of 'see-food' I like! I'll see you round, man!" He and Arnold did their friendship thumbshake before Gerald let himself out the door to the hallyway. The boardinghouse was a lot quieter now, so with the comforting thought that there were loads of other people to hang around with, Arnold walked into the kitchen to find his Grandma.

"Hi, Grandma!" said Arnold. He set a small plastic tub with their cleaned fish on the tabletop. "We brought you some fish for dinner!" Grandma popped open the tub and peered inside.

"Why thank you, Arnold! Why there was a recipe for fish gelaton basted in olive sauce I wanted to try!"

"You know what, Grandma?" asked Arnold suddenly desperate. He didn't like the sound of the new recipe already. "How about I set up the grill out back? It's perfect weather for a barbecue!"

"Good idea, Arnold!" said Grandma Pookie. Arnold walked out the back door to the slightly overgrown grass yard of the boarding house that ran all the way beneath the interstate. At times the whole area was shaded by the big, blocky ediface overhead, but at a late hour such as this, the afternoon's sun was sliding sideways under the interstate to hit the yard with its full glow. Arnold hummed and looked for some small sticks to use as kindling. He knew his Grandpa loved barbecues, too, but since it had been a long day already, the boy was extra eager to put all the hard work of setting up onto himself. It did his heart good to see his grandparents resting at the kitchen table through the window. The elderly pair both did so much for Arnold, that sometimes, he loved to do things for them. Grandpa Phil came out and Arnold beamed his widest smile. Soon, Grandpa Phil was flipping the fish over with a spatula and Arnold was holding out a platter to catch the cooked fish on in eager expectation.

The rest of Saturday passed quickly by, as did Sunday. Then it was Monday and the return to school was imminent. Arnold woke up and stamped down into his shoes and extra time and made sure the tongue was pulled up all the way. It might have been his imagination, but his black shoes were feeling a little snug. There was no wiggle room in the toe anymore.

Pacing his way methodicaly toward the bustop with one book under his arm, Arnold waited for the schoolbus. Like clockwork, it rolled right up to the Boarding House on Vine Street, then rolled away again in a hurry as soon as Arnold had dropped into one of the green seats, flexing for the impact of sudden speed he knew would come. The bus driver could be a little tense at times.

Kids were bouncing and laughing at the rear of the bus. Two girls were playing cat's cradel with a bit of cotton twine. When Helga boarded, she walked up to Helga to Phoebe to show her best friend her old skipping rope, which was having problems. Helga had tied a knot next to the handle several times, but once the handle and rope broke loose once, there was no hope for it. The balance was off just a bit, now, due to the added knots. Plus, the swinging motion always worked the handle off again within minutes, sending it flinging to the sidewalk and making the crack along the handle's side wider.

"So, what's the diagnosis, Doc?" Helga quipped as Phoebe studied the skipping rope, lifting the glasses for a moment. Phoebe took the skip rope into her hand.

"Well, we could try glue! But maybe it's time for a new one! After all, the rope seems to be a little…"

"Short," Helga ended for her poking the old rope like it was a dying snake instead of a perpetually inaminate object. "Plus it's a bit frayed!" She held the jump jump between her hands and regarded it, feeling both aloof from it like a baby's blanket and sentimetal towards it like it was an old friend.

"Indeed," Phoebe concurred. She kicked her delicate heels out into the air a few times before she and Helga fell deep into conversation.

The bus rolled off to school and Gerald and Arnold both met up in the hallway by their lockers before class began. Sheena, Stinky, and Rhonda approached. Arnold was mildly surprised when Gerald hung the brass medallion he had found on the fishing outing around his neck.

"Hey Rhonda, babe!" Gerald asked their grade's fashion critique. "What do you y'all think of this? Very Retro?" Rhonda squinted at the medallion.

"Hm. The workmanship's not THAT bad," Rhonda sniffed. "But I don't get it! Why would anyone want to wear a picture of parrrot around Hillwood? I would go for a more abstract art design if I were you!" was Rhonda's declaration. "Or find something sporty to go along with your 'athletic' theme."

"Well, the fashion doctor has spoken!" said Gerald preparing to remove the medallion from around his neck. But Sheena gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Where did you get that?!" the tall brown-headed girl with a very soft voice asked. She held her hand aloft as if hoping for Gerald to place the medallion into it. But on a reflex, Gerald kept the necklace aroud his neck, both hands now on its beads to keep it safe.

"Do you recognize it?" asked Gerald.

"Well, yeah, sorta!" said Sheena. "Um, I'll tell you about it! Only not here!" the girl said scooting her eyes around in the hall. "Um, meet me at the school cafeteria at lunchtime, okay?"

"Well, alright!" Gerald agreed after a moment's hesitation. "Just so long as it doesn't keep me too late! My girl, Phoebe's expecting me!" Gerald finished his sentence, his eyes looking particularly suave.

Gerald and Arnold began to walk down the hallway. But their encounter with Rhonda and Sheena wasn't to be the only one. A very odd girl who wasn't even in their class, but rather the one across the hall from them, stopped still and stared open-jawed at Gerald as he approached. "Gosh and begora! By the lochness monster, where did you get that?!" asked Campfire Lass with even more interest than Sheena had shown in it.

"Oh, just a little somthin' I picked up around town!" said Gerald now feeling thoroughly awkward. He scooted away from Campfire Lass as soon as possible. After all, that girl had one count against Gerald already.

"Well, Arnold," said Gerald finally removing the medallion. "This necklace is attracting too much attention in the wrong way!"

"Yeah, I guess you're right!" said Arnold. Once the necklace was in Gerald's pocket, the two boys promptly forgot all about it.

But Sheena hadn't apparently. She kept watching Gerald at his desk throughout class. When the lunchbell rang, she waited by the door for Gerald.

"You go on ahead!" Gerald promised the tall, lanky girl with the flower shirt. "I'll meet you in the lunchroom and we'll talk! I've just got to drop by my locker first!" said the boy with impossibly tall hair.

"Whew!" said Gerald approaching his locker as Arnold waited nearby. "Do the ladies love me or what?"

"I'm not so sure that's what this is about," said Arnold.

"What the?!" cursed Gerald. The door to his locker already cracked open. Nothing was removed. It was just open.

"Maybe you didn't shut it all the way!" speculated Arnold.

"Yeah, maybe," Gerald muttered. Arnold and Gerald moved further down the hallway. The halls were erriely silent since all the other kids had fled to lunch. Abruptly, the two boys were surrounded by four Campfire Lasses. Their leader, The Camfire Lass stomped up to the bronze-brown skinned boy in her saddleshoes.

"ALL RIGHT!" Campfire Lass rolled out, her tongue lingering on the fake Scootish accent for five whole seconds. "We know you've got it, laddies! We can't have the two of ye trying to hunt down the Ruby Parrot! Now hand over the medallion! Before we have to get rough!" said Campfire Lass holding up a fist in the direction of Gerald's nose while the rest of the Campfire Lasses all looked mean. Gerald held up his hands in surrender. But just then, their in-shool mugging was interrupted by the most unlikely of persons. It was Sheena.

"Run!" said Sheena bowling over the menacing Campfire Lass. She caught up Gerald and tugged him along with her. Arnold fled with them simply because it was smart to. He didn't want to find out what the Campfire Lasses wanted with them. Shortly, they were hiding by the tetherball court where Mr. Simmons was watching the mostly empty playground.

"Do you mind telling me what all that is about?" demanded Gerald.

"Well," said Sheena. "My Uncle Earl can tell the story better than I can! But it all begins in the 1900's, at the old children's campground of Snee-ka-pong-oosh!"

"Snee-ka-pong-oosh?" asked Gerald squinting. "Isn't that the place just outside the city they send all the kid's clubs to?"

"That's right!" said Sheena. "Your necklace is the key to a secret camp ritual! It begins fifty years ago!" Sheena began her strange tale of a long-standing children's feud of Hillwood.


	2. Chapter 2

"You see," Sheena squeaked in her voice that seemed delicate enough to break with moderate use, but contrary to expectation, it maintained a steady cadence. "Once upon a time, long ago, there were no coed camps! For some reason, it was expected that only boys would appreciate nature and the outdoors and everything! But the boys in Hillwood needed a place to stay that still had trees on it, so they asked a farmer if he would let them use some of their property for a campsite. That man was my great-great grandfather! He thought it was a really, really good idea so the boys who all wanted to camp built a camping cabin and Camp Snee-ka-pong-oosh began!" Sheena declared. Delicately, she kept her fingertips placed against her chest as though she were recovering from whooping cough, but really that was just how she spoke.

"And?" Arnold prompted mildly.

"Well," said Sheena. "At first things went really, well! Camp Snee-ka-pong-oosh was really successful! It still is to this day! One of my great aunts owns it! But then the fight for world social justice continued!" said Sheena raising a fist into the air. ""Some women decided that there should be outing clubs for girls, too, so two were formed, one for church kids and the other was non-denominational. Shortly after 1910, girls began to arrive at Camp Snee-ka-pong-oosh! Only, there was an itty, bitty problem. Most of the grownups didn't want the boys to share the same camp as the girls. So one camp was built at the north end of the lake. That was the girl's camp. The original boy's camp was on the south of the lake! There were lots of incidences of kids trying to sneak around to the other side, but camp counselors on either side were against it. All except members of my family. We believe in social equality. So we forbade the use of barb-wire!" Sheena ended on a proud note.

"That's an inspiring story," said Gerald, "but where's the part about the Ruby Parrot?"

"I'm getting to it, I promise!" Sheena pleaded. Gerald settled down, willing himself to be patient once more, although his arms remained folded together as snugly as the creases on a letter.

"Well, it concerns a little known boy's club here in Hillwood called the Parrot Scouts! They were a big hit in Hillwood! They wear little emblems of parrots on their hats and uniforms," said Sheena making a triangle on her shirt-front to show where the emblem would go. "They have a parrot on their flag, and more importantly, they even had a parrot emblem for their flagpole. It was made of metal and red thick, red hand-poured glass. One of the fathers who worked at the foundry made it for the troop."

"Sounds like it'd be important to them," observed Arnold, sagely. Sheena nodded.

"Yup! It was the troop's pride and joy! But fifty years ago, the Parrot Scouts and the girls across the lake were having a feud with each other. They'd name rocks or trees after rude things to insult each other. They'd rearrange the little wooden arrow signposts to the bathroom. One side would put poison ivy on the bar soap in the bathrooms. Then the other would put pine cones in the beds. Then the next round, they'd go to each other's campsites and teepee the whole place with toilet paper, you know. The Parrot Scouts even trapped a live racoon in the girl's cabin one year and got latrine duty for the whole summer because of it!" declared Sheena.

"That sounds… interesting," said Arnold choosing a polite word for it. Bastardly was more like it.

"Well, the Campfire Lasses were staying at the camp with all the other girls that summer and they must have gotten really upset about it, because one day the Ruby Parrot on top of the troop's flagpole went missing! Everyone woke up to have camp breakfast of scrambled eggs and hashbrowns and watered down orange juice, and someone finally noticed the theft. They pointed to the flagpole on the stage at the back of the Camp Dining Hall and there was a pink plastic flamingo instead of a parrot. Everyone went a little crazy. Everyone blamed everyone else. The camp administrators on either side searched, but the Ruby Parrot was never found. But there was a rumor flying around that the Campfire Lasses took it!"

"So a Campfire Lass was the thief, huh?" Gerald pondered out loud, scratching his chin. "Explains why Miss Campfire Lass herself knew about it!"

"Well, yes, kinda!" Sheena suggested in a weak voice. "But everyone kind of KNOWS the Campfire Lasses took it because about fifty year ago, they started a strange tradition. They'd dress up like pirates and send THAT necklace," said Sheena pointing to the medallion Gerald was wearing, "along with a letter to the boys on the other side of the lake each year, promising the safe return of the Ruby Parrot but only if they could find it. It was a challenge!"

"What kind of challenge?" asked Arnold.

"Oh, like a scavenger hunt!" said Sheena. "For the challenge, a mysterious someone would send the boys a list of clues to follow to find the Ruby Parrot. Oh, sure some of the boys solved some of the clues! They would find stones painted blue and red with a macaw on it sometimes. But no one ever found the Ruby Parrot itself! Then something really strange happened twelve years ago."

"And what is that?" Arnold pressed, eager for more clues, himself, at this point.

"The medallion was lost and no boy showed up from the boy's camp to answer the girl's challenge! So the challenge stopped changing its words. Every year since then, the challenge has said exactly the same thing as before!"

"And what is that?" asked Arnold, now a little anxious. Gerald, on the other hand, was looking bored with the whole thing.

"I can tell why some boy chucked this thing in the river, now!" said Gerald. "Letting girls rope ya around like that is ridiculous! He must have had some pride!"

"Gerald," Arnold admonished. "I want to hear the end of the story!" Gerald lifted his hands up in the air in defeat. He had probably dragged them both into something and he knew it.

"The exact words are, "Ask Mrs. Tweed's parrots."

"Parrots?" asked Arnold. Behind him, Gerald flexed his eyebrow but shrugged where Arnold could see him when no revelations struck either boy.

"Oh, Mrs. Tweed was one of the den-mothers for Parrot Scouts. My Uncle Earl has spent nearly a lifetime searching for the Ruby Parrot, you know. He was a teen camp counselor when the Ruby Parrot vanished. Uncle Earl's made it his life's quest to see the Ruby Parrot returned to the camp flagpole. He really hates that pink flamingo."

"Right," said Arnold wondering why they didn't just replace the pink flamingo.

"Mrs. Tweed's Polly, that a female parrot, had three baby parrots. She gave away all three of the offspring but she kept the polly for herself. But somehow, someway, someone had managed to teach all four of the birds to recite one line each of a riddle. My Uncle Earl figured out the way to get the parrots to recite the quote. You have to say, "Campfire Lass!" in a really loud voice to each parrot!"

"So what are the clues?" asked Arnold.

"You know, in all this excitement, I've forgotten," mumbled Sheena. "There rest of the story seemed more important."

"Great," said Gerald. "So this means we have to track down Uncle Earl?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that!" said Sheena. "My Uncle Earl owns Mrs. Tweed's old parrot, since she passed away. I know what it says! The clue is, "Cutthroat is the parrot's nest. But the other parrots were given by Mrs. Tweed to former Parrot Scouts. Mr. Green and Harvey own two of them!" blurted out Sheena counting fingers off her hand. "The last one, I don't know what happened to it. Uncle Earl never found out where it went!"

"Okay, then," said Arnold. "We'd better go pay a visit to Mr. Green!"

"Why?" asked Gerald. "I didn't sign up for no summer camp."

"No," Arnold answered with a smile. "But Campfire Lass might break your thumbs to get the medallion back."

"Good point!" Gerald quipped as the two boys came to a friendly agreement.


	3. Chapter 3

So it was that on the next available opportunity, Gerald and Arnold marched over to Mr. Green's butcher shop with the almost certainty that he would be there. Sure enough, the shop's proprietor was busy grinding up meat and loading them it into a machine that spit out sausage links as Mr. Green slowly turned the handle. Arnold stood back quietly as Gerald went forth to solve his problem.

"Mr. Green?" said Gerald. "I was wondering if you could help me with a little problem! You see, it's imperative, I mean IMPERATIVE, in an imparrot sort of way, that you 'all help me find clues to solve a puzzle! Mr. Green, do you, sir, own a parrot?"

"Why a matter of fact, I do!" said Mr. Green drying his hands on a towel. "But how'd you boys know about that? I've never mentioned it!"

"Well, sir," said Gerald holding up the parrot-emblemed medallion, "let's just say an informant told me all about him. We'd like to interview your little, fine feathered friend."

"Hm," said Mr. Green rubbing under his blocky chin. "Well, since it's you boys it's okay with me! But if you two go looking for the Ruby Parrot, you two boys be careful! Those Campfire Lasses are a real handful!"

"How do you know about them?" asked Gerald. "Oh, yeah! You were a Parrot Scout once, weren't you?"

"I sure was!" Mr. Green said proudly. "I was even a scout leader when my son was growing up. But that's all over now! The real problem is those girls! Why I remember every summer camp we'd all pull terrible pranks on each other, just like clockwork! Why, one girl even put tabasco sauce in my fruit punch when I wasn't looking. So if you boys go to challenge the Camp Fire lasses for the Ruby Parrot, well boys. I have this to say to you. Good luck!"

"Can we see the parrot now?" asked Arnold.

"Come on upstairs, boys," said Mr. Green turning over his open sign so that it read "back in fifteen minutes". Soon, they were following Mr. Green up a narrow hidden stair to the building's second story. Inside it was a broad but simply furnished apartment. An enormous red macaw sat on a perch in the kitchen.

"Awk!" the bird said stretching its wings. Arnold blinked. Then he approached the parrot.

"Good little birdie!" he said kindly.

"Let me handle this!" said Gerald holding up a hand for Arnold to step aside. He marched up to the parrot.

"Now where were you the night 1946? Ain't talkin', huh? How about the words, "Campfire Lass? Ring a bell?" The parrot blinked its eyes. It flapped its wings in a furious gale, rebalanced its feet on its perch, then spoke.

"Little Bo Beep has lost her sheep and doesn't know where to find them. Try the brook," recited the parrot. Arnold recorded the clue in a little notebook.

"That's exactly what I wanted to know! Thank you for your time, sir!" said Gerald. Proudly, he strode away from the parrot.

"Well, that's two clues so far," said Arnold. "Mr Green, we were told this parrot had two siblings. Do you have any idea where they might be?"

"Hm," said Mr. Green. "Harvey, the postman right here in Hillwood, has one of its brothers, but neither of us know what happened to the other one. Haven't seen it in years," Mr. Green said giving his head a shake. He patted the parrot once on the head. The parrot spun its head around looking at Arnold.

"Well, it was nice to meet you!" Arnold told the macaw before the boys said their goodbyes and left. Mr. Green went back to his shop work.

"Alright," said Arnold as the Butcher Shop door slammed shut with the noise of a bell behind them. "Harvey probably won't be done with his route until this afternoon."

"But we can catch up to him while he works!" Gerald countered. "We know his route pretty dang well, if I do say so myself!"

"You're right," said Arnold.

It was easier than either of the two boys thought to find Harvey. He had a package to deliver on Vine Street as well as the blue postbox on the street corner to empty, so it was easy to have few words with him. Late in the afternoon, Arnold and Gerald stood beside the second parrot hoping for a third clue. Harvey's macaw, just like the other one, was red with yellow pinion feathers at the edges of his wing and underneath it. It was a colorful bird, and beautiful, but fearsome in size. Macaws were a lot bigger than the parrot Arnold had kept for a day before a pet lizard had eaten it.

"To-to-be or not to-to be, that is the question," the parrot spoke as it shook in great excitement.

"Is it sick?" asked Gerald, his eyebrow flexing.

"Naw, that's just the way it talks, man!" said Harvey calmly. "But don't dis the bird, man! It doesn't deserve it." At this, Arnold stroked his hand along the glossy feathers of the macaw's back and smiled. Compared to Mr. Green's parrot, this one was very tame and sweet. It stepped off its perch to climb onto Arnold's shoulder. Arnold laughed once.

"Alright!" said Gerald snapping Arnold back to attention. "Let's go! Oh! One more thing, Harvey, have you any idea where its third sibling might be?"

"Hm," said Harvey. "I don't know, but its owner was one of your Grandpa's tenants a long time ago. You might ask him about it!"

"Grandpa?" asked Arnold quite surprised.

Grandpa Phil was riffling through the kitchen fridge when Arnold and Gerald found him.

"Grandpa have you seen a parrot…" Arnold began.

"A pair of what?" asked Grandpa Phil, oblivious.

"You know, a parrot," Arnold tried again. "Harvey told us that one of the boarders that lived here once had a parrot. A big red and yellow macaw," said Arnold illustrating the size with his arms. Grandpa Phil scratched his chin and flexed his eyebrows up in thought.

"Oh! A parrot! Sure, Shortman, I know what you're talking about! One of the boarders here left the thing behind."

"So what happened to it?" Arnold pressed.

"Well, Shortman, it was like this," said Grandpa Phil settling himself down for a long flashback. "It was the winter 1866, or maybe not. But the winter was long and cold and harsh that year and so cold that the porcelain throne in the bathroom felt like an outdoor bedee. But fuel was expensive that year and we had far fewer tenants than usual so we were struggling to makes ends meet. I didn't eat pork chops for weeks and then, one day I looked in cupboard and all I found was a sack of flour, four potatoes, and a carrot. It was then that I looked across the kitchen and saw that bird," said Grandpa Phil with great elaboration.

"Wait a minute!" said Arnold with slow horror. "You aren't telling me that you… ate the parrot?!" Arnold gaped.

"Sure did, Shortman!" replied Grandpa Phil, shameless. "It was man or bird! That parrot made the best pot pie I've ever eaten!" Arnold slapped his forehead and kept his head buried behind his hand.

"I can't believe it! You ate the parrot?" Arnold reiterated.

"That was our fourth clue!" Gerald declared, shaking his arms out, palms forward, in disgust.

"A clue you say," said Phil. "Maybe I can help you! The bird talked a lot."

"What did it say, Grandpa?" Arnold asked slightly hopefully.

"Hm, let's see!" said Phil, thinking. "Eat at Smoe's! No, that's not it. Polly want a dingbat? No, that's not it, maybe I've forgotten. Oh, I know!" said Grandpa Phil snapping his fingers suddenly. "What the bird said was, 'I shot my arrow as a test, forty paces I shot it best. Look within the stones for a test.' Darned if I know what that means."

"Thanks, Grandpa!" said Arnold smiling slightly. He recorded the clue carefully onto his notepad.

"That's all four clues, Arnold!" Gerald said, elated. "Now all we gotta do is follow them to where they lead!"

"Yeah!" said Arnold, enthusiastic about the treasure hunt.


	4. Chapter 4

**I made some street names up for this, but I used a map of Hillwood by artist Steve Lowtwait for this treasure hunt. This story takes place after a Fifth Grade Fundraiser and Sheena Greene Gets Mean so it's in the Olga Pataki story arc. Enjoy.**

"Okay," said Arnold examining his notepad carefully. "Cutthroat is the parrot's nest. That one sounds like it might really be the last clue. It might mean that if we figure out what cutthroat means, we'll see the parrot there! Second clue," said Arnold slowly turning his notepad page so as not to tear it. "Little Bo Beep has lost her sheep and doesn't know where to find them. Try the brook." Arnold tapped his chin three times as he thought.

"There may be a brook at the camp," Gerald suggested.

"Maybe," said Arnold unwilling to rule anything out. He read the next clue. "To-to-be or not to-to be, that is the question. Hm!"

"Hm?" asked Gerald. "Hm, what?"

"I'm not sure, but that reminds me of something I read in the Purdy Boy Adventures, once. To-to be? Two, two, B? Brook? Gerald!" said Arnold gripping his friend's shoulder. "I think the parrots are reciting an address! 22-B Brook Street!"

"Wha?" asked Gerald. "Are you crazy? That's in Hillwood, not at some ol' summer camp in the sticks!"

"No, but it's not like we found the medallion at summer camp. This thing has gone WAY beyond a summer grudge."

"Which makes me even more terrified of that crazy kid, Campfire Lass!" said Gerald glancing nervously over his shoulder. "What if we walk right straight into her den?"

"Oh, I don't think we will!" said Arnold. "If I'm right about the address, I think we're safe! Campfire Lass lives a dozen blocks off!"

"Hm," said Gerald thinking, hard. "Do I know a Brook Street?"

"It's the name of one of the little roads that run under the interpass going north towards the canal. Before they dug a canal to shift it, there used to be a brook nearby. At least that's what Grandpa says. It ends right on Vine Street, remember? One block east past Green's Meats, and one street up and over from the vacant lot."

"Oh, yeah!" said Gerald snapping his fingers. "I always forget what that little road is called!" Soon, Gerald and Arnold made their way east along Vine Street.

"See that road?" asked Arnold pointing northward as they reached the end of the first block past Arnold's home. "That street is a shortcut to Brook Street. I should know, because I've crashed into Helga there a whole lot. Let's go over one more block. I don't really know where 22-B Brook Street might be, so let's walk up the whole street."

"Okay. Have it your way!" said Gerald who would have been happy to take the short cut.

"Let's see, 4 Brook Street, 5 Brook Street, six…" said Arnold counting as they walked up the short street. Then, the street bent around a corner a new, green street name sign appeared. "Hm," said Arnold thinking. "Brook Lane! It could be either of these streets, Gerald! I'm sorry. Maybe my idea wasn't such a good one, after all."

"Let's keep counting, buddy!" said Gerald, a hand on Arnold's back as they paced down the street. The two boys studied the numbers attached beside the front door of the houses.

"See!" said Gerald. "The numbers here aren't going down! They're going up! The two roads must have been one before the corner was built on. Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, and.." said Gerald with great trepidation. Then he squinted. "Wait a minute! That makes no sense! Why would the clues lead us to Helga's house?"

"Hang on!" Arnold said beginning to pace, himself as they stared across the street towards 22-B Brook Lane. "Let's read the next clue! What the bird said was, 'I shot my arrow as a test, forty paces I shot it best. Look within the stones.' Do you see an arrow anywhere?" Passing by Helga's house, they crossed the street and stopped in the shadow of a street sign for one tiny road going north, then the other continuing west to make a small triangular lot, half the size of a normal block, but built on just the same.

"Give me a sec, okay?" remarked Arnold as he began to walk forty paces east along the sidewalk from the tip of the corner. Sure enough, he stopped right in front of the Pataki residence.

"Arnold, there's no way that Helga is a Campfire Lass!" protested Gerald. But Arnold was lost deep in thought.

"But twelve years ago, when the medallion went missing and the challenges all saying the same thing began… Let me borrow that medallion, Gerald!" Arnold said striding up to the door. He rapped on it soundly. Arnold heard two female voices behind the door, then the door opened, with Olga Pataki standing with Helga a few steps more beyond her.

"Why, hello little friend of Helga's!" said Olga grasping hold of Helga and snugging Helga to her side so that Helga could not bolt for the door. "I told you already, I am not giving my dear little sis to you!" Arnold might have been astonished at Olga's remark, but her boorish jealousy had become a tiring argument between them. Besides, Arnold was here on other business.

"That isn't what this is about," said Arnold flashing the medallion with a parrot emblem on it in front of Olga. Her fake, pleasant demeanor faltered for a moment. Across Olga's ordinarily lovely, loving face came the flash of a look that was eerily similar to Helga's occasional spirit of wickedness. Olga's eyes narrowed at Arnold. Then she blinked, and her charming face returned along with its enchantments.

"Oh, my! That is different! I never really expected to see that again! I thought the medallion was lost forever! But since you do have it, I suppose that means you've come here to participate in the challenge."

"I have," said Arnold boldly, his feet planted on the ground firmly and his fists planted on either side as he leveled a gaze at Olga Pataki. "But first I want to know why you're the challenge-giver. You're a little old to be a Campfire Lass, aren't you?"

"I was once," said Olga, sniffing her nose up proudly, her fingertips placed delicately upon her chest. "Twelve years ago, the sacred duty of keeping the Ruby Parrot safe was conferred on me by my darling Campfire Troop. But a sweet little boy liked me, oh so much, that he threw the medallion away instead of challenging me for the Ruby Parrot. We had lunch together, skipped stones on the pond! That sort of thing. A pity I don't remember what his name was. I must have had a dozen crushes at Camp Snee-ka-pong-oosh. But once the medallion was lost, it became obvious to me that no one was even remotely interested in the old tradition. Most of the Parrot Scouts had given up on the old feud as a thing of the past. Noble of them, really. So I was left with the tinsy-wensie difficulty of having the duty to protect something no one really wanted to find, except for that strange-sea salt character, of course," said Olga speaking of Uncle Earl. "But instead of simply returning the thing to the flagpole or revealing its location to the Parrot Scouts, I decided to make the scavenger hunt, simpler. I taught Mrs. Tweed's Parrot one clue that might lead directly to the Ruby Parrot."

"Cutthroat is the parrot's nest," Arnold recited.

"Yes," Olga answered him.

"But how did you do it?" questioned Arnold with determination.

"Well, I did some work as a babysitter for Mrs. Tweed, of course! But when her parrot's darling little chicks fledged, I taught them clues, too, to lead the Parrot Scouts to my address in case someone wanted to go looking for the Ruby Parrot away from camp. I was trying to be thoughtful, you know," explained Olga. "The younger girls of my old Campfire Lass troop took over most of my duties of issuing the scavenger hunt challenge each year, making mysterious letters! But years passed, and no one ever answered the challenge."

"Except now!" declared Gerald, his finger pointing as he gained his second wind. "So, where are the stolen goods, dollface?"

"If you'd like," offered Olga in the spirit of practiced kindness. "We could all arrange a visit to Camp Snee-ka-pong-oosh next weekend! I'll make all the necessary arrangements with the camp owners. It could be fun!"

"You want us to trust you?!" blurted Gerald. But Arnold held up a hand.

"Alright. We'll meet with you. And we'll find the Ruby Parrot."

"Confident, aren't we?" said Olga. "Well, baby sister and I should be getting back her sheet music lessons. I'll be in touch," said Olga in a manner that was sweet yet almost secretly threatening. Her animosity towards Arnold for constantly diverting Helga's attention from herself to him was showing. A fierce loyalty to the Campfire Lasses was showing, too, perhaps. Arnold liked them even less than ever.

"It's okay, Gerald. We can do this. We can find the Ruby Parrot. Besides, Olga isn't really a bad person. Just a little childish about certain things. I'm sure we have nothing to worry about."

"Alright!" Gerald lamented. There was little else left to do now but wait.

When the next weekend came, Arnold was more than ready to take a crack at the Olga's last riddle. Slamming his hand against the snooze button as the alarm clock rang, Arnold rolled out of bed. Swiftly, he dressed, went downstairs, ate, and pretty much was in so much of a hurry that he was at Gerald's house before his friend had finished his own preparations for the day. Grandpa Phil had agreed to to take them to the camp, so he waited in the car for Gerald and Arnold to hop in. They passed by Olga in her convertible on the roadway.

It was an awkward yet almost ceremonial moment when Olga, Helga (who had come along for the windy ride), Gerald, Arnold, Grandpa Phil, Sheena, and Sheena's mother, who had been filled in on some but not all details, arrived at the empty camp. Like a ghost town, the buildings shivered in silent anticipation, waiting for their summer residents to return, bringing them renewed light and noise and warmth. Floorboards creaked beneath Arnold's shoes. Feeling the silence press in around him save for the anxious group behind him, Arnold studied a poster map of the campgrounds.

"There!" Arnold said with determination. "We'll start our search in the game room!" Olga blinked hard, then smiled a wry but cute little grin.

The game room was large. It was a common room made for campers to enjoy during "free time", the equivalent of recess for attendants at summer camp. Inside it were board games like chess and checkers, a good-sized shelf of books, a ping-pong table, falling apart arm chairs, and last but not least, a pool table. Arnold walked directly towards the pool table and began to peer around its edges. He tried to crawl underneath.

"Ahem!" said Olga clearing her throat, attracting everyone's attention. She picked up one of cue sticks and walked over to the pool table.

"Have you ever played pool, Arnold?" asked Olga with a small measure of coy, feigned ignorance.

"Yeah I have!" said Arnold, turning swiftly as he sensed the challenge about to come from Olga's lips.

"Then how about we play a little game?"

"You're on!" said Arnold. "But we play 'cutthroat'!" Olga blinked hard again.

"Oh, so you ARE aware of the clue. You clever little thing! But do you see the parrot's nest?"

"Not yet, but I will," Arnold promised boldly.

"Well!" said Olga rolling her eyes as she smiled with humor at the secret that was yet unknown. "If you can beat me at pool, I'll tell you the answer! Would you like that?"

"Deal!" said Arnold taking up two pool sticks. He kept one for himself and handed off the second to Gerald, for cutthroat is a three-player game.

"Oh, goodie!" said Olga waving her finger around. "Now to make this simple, you get the low balls," said Olga with derisive sniff, "Gerald gets the mid balls, and I get the high balls!" said Olga speaking of the numbers. That meant that the pool balls Arnold had to avoid sinking were those with numbers one through five on them. Gerald and Olga, meanwhile, would try to sink them deliberately to knock him out of the game.

"Okay!" said Arnold letting his own annoyance at Olga's continual challenges slip out a bit with his next words. "I'll be number one in more than one way!"

"Oh, confident, aren't we?" asked Olga. As she and Arnold stood at a mild standoff, Helga walked up between the two along one side of the pool table. In her hands was an enormous tub of popcorn, so large it obscured her vision. Helga peered around the popcorn bowl's side and smiled at Arnold. She had been oddly silent up till now, mainly watching how things played out.

"Hey Football-Head!" said Helga. "Do your best! But don't feel too bad if you get licked!"

"Are you going to cheer me on?" Arnold asked hopefully.

"Nah, I'm on the bad guy's team this time, remember? Boo, Arnold! Yeah, villains!"

"Oh, Helga!" Olga said slightly annoyed with her younger sister. With a shrug, Helga wandered off and sat down on one of the armchairs to enjoy her popcorn. Sheena, meanwhile, had finished setting up the pool balls into a triangle using the wooden rack.

Arnold poised to make his first shot. Behind his back came a loud chewing, and then the loud sound of slurping to boot as Helga guzzled down a soda.

"Do you mind chewing a little more quietly?" the boy said with slight irritation.

"What?" asked Helga now taking a page out of Olga's book and pretending she didn't have any idea what he was talking about. Arnold rolled his eyes. Yes, indeed, these two Pataki sisters were even more of a handful when there were two of them around. When Helga ceased her chewing for a moment, he took the first shot to split the pool balls apart.

Arnold, Gerald, and Olga all played intensely, taking their turns to sink one or even two pool balls into the pockets at the edges of the pool table. But in a very short amount of time, Olga was left with only one pool ball left to sink and three of her balls on the table while Arnold had two to go and only two pool balls left to his name. Olga smiled in triumph.

"Hold on!" said Arnold. With grim determination, he sunk one of his own, low-numbered pool balls.

"Ah, man!" Gerald lamented. "Bad, luck man!"

"Not luck, Gerald," said Arnold rubbing some fresh powder onto the end of his pool stick. "I 'cutthroat' on purpose. I lost one of my own, but now I get another shot!" He squinted and lowered himself to the table. Then, everyone holding their breath, they all watched as Arnold took his shot and miraculously, almost like pinball, bounced the white cue ball against the side of the table to smack into not only one of Olga's pool balls, but all three of them as they clustered near the pocket. With a noisy rattle, they rolled in.

"All right!" said Olga relenting. "I'll tell you where the Ruby Parrot is!"

"No need!" said Arnold. He picked up the cue ball they had been playing with, which was not smoothed stone like the rest of the balls. It was made from hard plastic resin, instead, which had made play even more difficult. There was a little hairline running down the middle. Gripping the ball by its edges, Arnold unscrewed it like a little box and took a little key from within. No wonder that the cue ball had been lighter than the usual 6 ounces. It had been hollowed all along. Taking the key, Arnold searched the pool table again and found a small box nailed behind the pool table's trimboard and bordered by one of the pockets for the pool balls. Sheena fetched a crowbar from an unexplained somewhere and they tugged it down. Then Arnold set the key into the lock. The box lid popped open to reveal a little bronze metal parrot with feathers and and eyes of crackled red glass.

"You did good Arnold!" said Gerald waving his thumb for a friendship thumb shake. "Fifty years of being lost and the mystery of the Ruby Parrot is finally solved! And you aren't even a Parrot Scout!"

"No, but I'll feel good about returning the emblem to the flagpole," said Arnold. "No one needs to know it was me. It can stay a mystery like its disappearance was," said Arnold with precious modesty.

"Especially if you don't want Campfire Lass to come breathing fire down your neck!" remarked Gerald. Arnold smiled.

"But Uncle Earl will be grateful for what you did!" said Sheena. "I can't wait to tell him! Thank you, Arnold!"

"No problem. But can I ask you a favor?" asked Arnold as they arrived at the camp's mess hall to see the stage with its flagpole for the first time. "Can I keep the flamingo?"

"I don't know why not!" mumbled Sheena as she and Gerald worked together to swap the two birds. Ten minutes later, Arnold stood beside the side of Olga's convertible, looking over into it towards his favorite occupant.

"Bye, Helga!" said Arnold in parting to his friend. "See you around!"

"Yeah, well, Olga and me are crashing the aquarium Sunday. See ya around!"

"Definitely!" said Arnold with a smile. He definitely liked this new system of Helga's of letting him know where she'd be at every moment and especially when they might ditch Olga for a time. Arnold waved once softly as Olga Pataki started the motor to her car and drove off.

Grandpa Phil, Gerald, Arnold, plus Sheena's mother and Sheena, piled back into the car and drove back to Hillwood. Sheena sat in the backseat while her mother wrapped an arm around her and they smiled, sharing a tender moment. Arnold smiled at the two sitting beside him, happy for them. Then he looked up towards the front seat where Gerald and Grandpa Phil were smiling. It had been a pretty fun adventure for all of them. Grandpa Phil parked, and Arnold carried his flamingo prize out into the grassy yard.

"Hi Abner!" Arnold greeted his snuffling pet pig in his dog house. The boy set the pink flamingo up in a little patch of flowers growing near the edge of the fence. The flamingo didn't look half bad there! Arnold's favorite pet sniffed the new lawn ornament out of curiosity. Then Arnold paused to give Abner a fond pat on the head. Grandpa Phil called from the kitchen door.

"You coming, Arnold? Dinner will be soon!"

"Yeah, Grandpa," said Arnold walking in towards the door. Grandma Pookie was wearing her best white kitchen apron as she greeted Arnold just outside the door.

"Coming, Arnold?" Grandma Pookie asked. "We're having stuffed cabbage today. It's an old family recipe!"

"Yeah Grandma!" Arnold repeated happily as he walked in through the back kitchen door and shut it tight behind him. Out in the yard, Abner snuffed the pink plastic flamingo once more, then turned around in a circle and lay down in the yard dust for another nap. The end.


End file.
